


To Where You Felt Safe

by Achika



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enjolras Survives, Angst, Canon Era, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achika/pseuds/Achika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Well, this is certainly not how I expected to be formally introduced to you," She says. Her frown twists into something a little sad and a little mocking, and it strikes a chord in Enjolras' brain, like he's seen it a million times before, but it can't be true if they've never even been introduced. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Where am I?" Enjolras asks.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Enjolras survives, because Grantaire is stubborn. Grantaire does not, because he is stubborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Where You Felt Safe

Enjolras wakes up to the worst headache he's ever experienced, and he's suffered from some very bad ones in the past, when he's stayed awake too long working and planning on not enough food or water. Pressing his hands against his forehead does nothing to sooth the pain, and Enjolras hisses and winces.

"You're awake!" Someone says from nearby. 

Enjolras attempts to sit up, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

"Please, Monsieur Enjolras, you _must_ stay still!" the voice says, sounding worried, and Enjolras reluctantly opens his eyes despite the pounding in his head. 

Enjolras has no idea where he is. 

But more pressing than that is the fact that the last he remembered, he'd been at the Barricade and worrying about the National Guard. 

Judging by the fact that he isn't in prison, he decides that he can at least tentatively trust the woman who is looking at him with a concerned frown on her face.

She looks vaguely familiar, but Enjolras cannot place her. 

"Well, this is certainly not how I expected to be formally introduced to you," She says. Her frown twists into something a little sad and a little mocking, and it strikes a chord in Enjolras' brain, like he's seen it a million times before, but it can't be true if they've never even been introduced. 

"Where am I?" Enjolras asks.

"This is my home. My brother brought you here in the chaos. My name is Chantal, by the way. I assume that was your next question,"

"It was, but now I have more, I'm afraid. Is the fighting over? How long have I been here? Who is your brother?" Enjolras asks, and tries again to sit up. This time Chantal does not protest, but she does frown. 

"Yes, it's been over for hours. It ended not long after Rolland practically beat down my door and left you here," She pauses, and Enjolras had known how the fight with the National Guard would go but her "I'm sorry," does not make it any easier to accept. 

It's pain, and regret, and guilt. 

He hadn't meant to survive, not once he'd realized that the people weren't rising. He doesn't know if any of his friends are still alive. They'd all believed in the cause, and at the time it had been an acceptable risk when they were all going to go down fighting together, but if they had all died for it when he'd lived...

The thought sits heavy in Enjolras' stomach like lead. 

The silence stretches on. 

"Rolland always thought very highly of you," Chantal says, and then she laughs bitterly and rubs her face with her hands. "So very highly," 

It's that special kind of bitterness that allows Enjolras to make the connection, and once he's done it he can't believe he'd missed it.

On Chantal's face he can now discern the familiar lines, softened and smoothed, the tilt of her lips when she doesn't know what to say. Her nose is perfectly straight, not broken more than once and left awkward because of it. Her eyes are the same startling shade of blue. 

"Grantaire. You're Grantaire's sister," Enjolras manages to say. 

He can remember now. Grantaire had roused from his drunken stupor and found Enjolras. They'd argued, Grantaire had begged for him not to throw away his life. He'd grabbed Enjolras' sleeve, and his expression had been desperate. Enjolras had refused, and shaken off his grip. He was going to stick it out until the very end, no more than he had asked of anyone else, and Grantaire...

"He gave you a real knock to the head," Chantal says, proud. It brings Enjolras out of his thoughts. "Carried you here by himself, and started pounding on my door like...well, like the National Guard was after him," 

"'Chantal open up please, it's your big brother I need you' he yelled. Like the neighbors weren't pretending not to hear people dying in the streets," Chantal scowls at that, and Enjolras finally notices the lack of most furniture in the room, most likely sacrificed for the barricade. 

"He left you here, and begged me and my husband to keep you safe. Said the only way he could be brave was if he knew you'd live through the day, even if you'd curse him for it later and never forgive him, and then he went back to the fighting, to help the others who were still alive because he 'had to prove to himself' and" It is there that her voice breaks. "He could have _stayed_ ," 

Enjolras, usually so eloquent, cannot find his words. What can he possibly say to her? That he'd scorned Grantaire, while he still lived, and undermined what confidence he did have? Said terrible things aimed to hurt and Grantaire had only ever come back for more? That he'd never taken the time to look behind the front Grantaire had put up to protect himself, and that Enjolras regrets that more than he had thought he would? That he hadn't realized the strength Grantaire had possessed until now, faced with his sacrifice? Been ungrateful for his devotion not to the cause he didn't believe in but to Enjolras himself?

There is no comfort in the truth for her, and so Enjolras stays silent. 

Chantal takes a deep breath and composes herself. 

"If you'll excuse me, Monsieur Enjolras, there is quite a lot of blood on the streets that needs dealt with,"


End file.
